Date: Sun, 5 Oct 2003 06:08:56 -0000 (GMT)
From: Rln1966@aol.com
Subject: Boy Daredevils in Speedos 1 - Cub Scout Camp

Boy Daredevils in Speedos 1 - Cub Scout Camp

Copyright by Speedyboy, Sept 2003.  This story is submitted to Nifty
under their submission guidelines.   No part of this story can be submitted
or archived by anyone else without my express permission. If you are
too young or don't like stories about rough play with erotic overtones
press the back button NOW!

This story is fantasy.  The author does not endorse, encourage, or
consent to any attempt to make any of the below described scenes real.

Please send feedback to Speedyboy, Rln1966@aol.com.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I was seven, I joined the cub scouts, which is what boys in
the UK belong to before graduating to the scouts at the age of about
eleven. Every summer, we'd go away on camp for a fortnight, and one camp,
when I was ten years old, still sticks in my mind above all the others. It
was a really hot summer, and I spent most of the fortnight running around
in just my black speedos (and a purple pair, as you'll see shortly!),
and a pair of trainers.

About forty boys from our troop had signed up for the camp, and there were
six cubscoutmasters to look after us. One of the masters wasn't one of
the regular guys from our weekly meetings back home - he'd been brought
in by a colleague to make up the right number of adults.  He'd have been
about twenty-five to thirty, I guess, with hindsight.  He was muscular,
with thick black hair all over his body, and he used to stride around
the camp in a pair of tight purple speedos, which he seemed to have to
adjust all the time, and a black T-shirt with a swimming club logo on
it of a devilish boy with horns holding a trident aloft, and the words
"Daredevil Boys Aquatic Club" around the logo. I was slightly puzzled
about this at first, as it was not a club I'd come across locally. He
had a wolfish grin on his face for most of the two weeks, especially
when he was looking at us boys, and he seemed to record everything
(and I mean everything!) on a cine camera (I think the film footage
is still doing the rounds on the net, actually!). Because of his grin
and his body hair (still a thing alien to us hairless pre-teen cubs)
we decided to nickname him Wolf, and he seemed to really like the name!

We were divided up into six groups of boys, with about six or seven of us
in each group, each with an adult mentor. Each group had a name taken from
classical history - there was one called Spartan Boys, for example. We
six were Roman Boys. To my delight, Wolf chose me for his group. In fact,
he seemed to choose all the boys I'd admired most at cubs when we'd had
swimming, wrestling and boxing sessions - we were all slim, athletic and,
I guess, cute-looking kids as far as he was concerned. Once we'd pitched
our tents away from the others, he managed to get us a private log cabin
nearby as our HQ.

At our first team talk in the log cabin, he said he'd make sure we won the
competition to be "Cub Scout Camp Champs", but that we'd have to train
hard. We agreed, and then we all swore a solemn oath of brotherhood,
which included a promise to reveal nothing about our training methods
to our rivals. Then he surprised us all by bringing out a sports bag
full of silky boy-size speedos, in a whole array of dazzling colours,
and measured each one of us for a pair, so that, to our great pride, we
each got a new pair of purple speedos, just like his! The evening was
a blur of boys running around trying on speedos, admiring each other,
giggling, punching and play fighting.  Wolf filmed lots of great footage
that night. I remember I deliberately tried a pair which were way too
small for me, and writhed around on the floor in front of him pretending
the tight garment was crushing my balls. To the amazement of all the
boys present, Wolf just unashamedly reached out, grabbed me hard by the
speedos, and gave me a deft squeeze, twisting my young boy organs, saying
"Now this is what real pain feels like, boy!" I gave a yelp of surprise,
but refused to run away. I raised my eyes to his and gave him a long,
defiant look, and then a boyish smile. He did the same, and then, with
some reluctance, released the crushing pressure on my young balls. We
understood each other already.

He kept to his promise and trained us well - endless hours of swimming
at the camp pool, including many underwater lengths, which initially
freaked out some of the other boys, but they soon got used to it,
once they knew they'd get their heads pushed straight back under if
they surfaced too soon. Running, cycling, rowing, trampolining, boxing,
wrestling...the camp was a real paradise for a ten year old like me with
boundless energy. He trained us to be mentally tough too. For example,
he'd wake us up in the middle of the night after we'd gone to sleep
(we were made to sleep in spare pairs of purple speedos, as part of the
team bonding process), he'd crawl around our tent on all fours, howling,
and muttering "I'm the Big Bad Wolf, and I'm hungry, and I need a boy for
my supper!" We'd all wake up, and peep out of the tent as that night's
victim was taken struggling to his tent and tied up. Then the trussed-up
youngster would be brought out, and placed carefully in a huge cooking
pot over a campfire outside the tent. The water was just starting to
get warm, and the Big Bad Wolf would pace around the boy, telling him
which part of his anatomy he was going to cut off an eat first (not a
particularly original choice, I'm sorry to report!).  Then the victim
would go into the pot, which turned out to be no warmer than a hot bath,
but that would not stop the boy from thrashing and screeching, if only
to strike fear into the ones who had not yet been initiated.

When my turn for the pot came, he whispered in my ear "I'm gonna have
some fun with you, boy!", as he carried me kicking and yelling into his
tent. While he was tying me up, he was greatly surprised when I piped
up, in my confident boy-treble voice; "You can do whatever you want,
as long as you don't risk my life, or permanently injure me, OK Wolf? My
safeword is Bagheera, from the Jungle Book, right?" I had made my pitch,
and fell silent.

He stopped what he was doing and looked straight into my eyes for a long
time. He didn't look wolfish any more, just supremely compassionate
and concerned. "Has someone been hurting you, little guy? he asked
softly. "You wanna talk about it?" I gazed back, thinking hard. So far,
I'd had him down as a casual, rather heartless user of boys on a weekend
basis...a swim meet here, a cub scout camp there...but there was more
to him than that.  He put his arm around my shoulders, and we sat side
by side for a while, man and boy. Tears were pouring down my face.

"No", I said "no- one's hurting me - at least no-one's doing anything to
me I don't want them to..it's just that...I don't know..all my life I've
been dreaming up ways to torture myself...even from the age of five...and
I don't understand why...I love my family and they love me, and I'm doing
fine at school...but all I want to do really is strip down to my speedos
and get my balls whipped...I guess I'm just some kind of weirdo, huh?.

Wolf considered this, and then raised his head smiling.  "Is that such a
problem?", he said.  "There are lots of people around like you, Rob...in a
way you're just lucky that you discovered who you were so young...you're,
what, ten, right?"

"Right."

"Well I was just like you when I was ten, and there was no one around to
tie me up...why don't you just enjoy this part of your character, and
see where it takes you? Like you say, you have a safeword, and people
like me will always, always respect that".

I thought about this, and then smiled back.  "OK Wolf", I said, my
natural enthusiasms restored (or perhaps it was just that I'd woken up
fully, after the shock of being roused at midnight!), "let's go have
some fun...do your worst!"

He finished tying me up - but did so very roughly and thoroughly.  Then,
newly emboldened, I made a request; "Could I have something extra, Wolf,
to make this a little more challenging...it seems kinda easy as it is!"

"O.K. son", he said, grinning, "You asked for it".

He didn't disappoint me - he took out a tiny but thick, strong little
ring made of black rubber, yanked down my speedos rather carelessly and
wrestled my tiny cock and balls through the device with some difficulty.
That got me squirming on the floor of his tent - a helpless boy in
real torment - the pain was intense but thrilling. Then, catching me
unawares, he put another one on for good measure - but this second
one was so tight that he had to stifle a scream as it was snapped on
to my pre-pubescent genitals, which were now forced to protrude nice.
They were already becoming red. From my sessions by myself at home,
I knew it wouldn't long before they turned a nice shade of purple, but
I'd have to get them off somehow before they turned black - I didn't want
to do myself any lasting damage, not with a lifetime of experimentation
ahead of me. Wolf rearranged my speedos with great care, and put one
some stray ropes which seemed to but between my legs like a cheese wire.

Then he went outside and set up his cine camera on infra-red so that it
could record properly at night, and and dragged me out of the tent by my
thick mop of straight brown hair, so that I was yelling hard as I came
out. The boys in the tent were still watching, calling out things like
"What took you so long? Did he take your ass in there man?" I just gave
them the finger angrily, and they collapsed in giggles. The water in the
pot was far too hot because our talk had taken longer than expected,
so Wolf bailed some out and put some cold in. It was now back to hot,
but not too hot. Then he lifted up his boy-captive,and, rather than
placing me in feet first as he'd done with the others, he threw me
brutally into the water, and held my head down at the bottom of the
pot, with my tied feet and the back of my purple speedos bobbing at the
top of the steaming utensil. I'd had the sense to take a breath when
I realized what was happening, which was just as well, as he held me
under hard for two minutes, punching and clawing me for good measure,
only withdrawing finally because his arm was getting too hot in the water.

He hauled me up, and his wolfish grin reappeared, but I just stared at
him defiantly, took another breath and ducked right down underwater
again. The water was beginning to boil now...little bubbles fizzing
and popping around my unprotected skin, but I knew I had to match the
two minutes he'd given me, and go beyond it. It was difficult to keep
my head underwater all by myself, but I was tied in such a way that
I was crouching in a ball face down, which served me well. I counted
slowly in my head, determined not to give myself an easy time.. Just as
things were slipping away and I could feel i was about to black out, at
about two minutes fifteen seconds, I swung my body around and surfaced,
gasping noisily. The boys in the tent were cheering, and so was Wolf. He
hauled me out, untied me, cut off the treacherous rings he'd snapped onto
me, and said to all of us, "I know we'll be cub scout camp champs how,
boys...you're a fine body of young men!".

On that note, we went back to our tent and slept soundly, dreaming of
glorious victories to come. Best of all, Wolf gave me a special invitation
to join his private swimming squad, the Daredevil Boys Aquatic Club, at
his private pool. The training was more imaginative and intense there,
as I shall have to recount another day.

(To be continued)